


sub rosa

by basurahan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Flash Fic, M/M, Secret Relationship, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basurahan/pseuds/basurahan
Summary: Is this for real?  Maybe it's just a hallucination.  Prompto took a couple hard knocks during the hunt, after all ‑‑ or maybe itisreal, but it doesn't mean what Prompto thinks it means.  Noct's always been better at the silent comfort thing than anything involving words; it's probably just his way of telling Ignisyou're very important to me and I'm upset you nearly got eaten alive by daemons tonight.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	sub rosa

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 2018 February.

Noct calls shotgun the moment they're in sight of the car even though no one really has the energy or the willpower to argue with him about it, not after what they've just been through, and Prompto's more than happy to knock the fuck out in the backseat and let Ignis take them back to civilization; it's certainly what Gladio does the millisecond his ass hits chair. _Big mood, buddy_ , thinks Prompto, staring at Gladio's apparent corpse, and says, "How long till we reach the outpost?" 

"Another forty‑five minutes or so," says Ignis. "I suggest you get some rest."

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" Prompto says, wincing before the words have fully left his mouth. Not even missing certain death by half an inch could make Ignis give up the driver's seat ‑‑ the guy's always needed to be in control of _something_ , and Prompto doesn't blame him for not wanting to get tossed around like a sack of potatoes by Noct's quote‑unquote driving skills, especially tonight. "You know, 'cause _I_ can. Driver's license and everything."

Ignis looks even less impressed with him than usual. "I'm sure."

"Okay, cool." Prompto fights the urge to lean over the front seat; not like Ignis can get on his case for dirtying up the car when _he's_ the one covered head‑to‑toe in stinking daemon guts, but he doesn't want Cindy to come at them screaming the next time they pull up to Hammerhead. "Uh, just pull over if you need to stop, okay? We won't mind."

"Thank you, Prompto," Ignis says dryly, just as Noct leans back and says, "Quit pestering him," and Prompto can take a hint. He drops back into his seat, shucks off his muddy boots ‑‑ _sorry_ , _Cindy_ ‑‑ and leans over to check if Gladio's still breathing before finally knocking the fuck out.

He jolts awake a little while later, heart pounding from a horrible nightmare about a giant cyborg malboro taking over Insomnia, which would have been bizarre enough without it rapping like Nicki Minaj. Before he can finish a yawn the car hits a humongous pothole, jostling everyone inside, and Prompto's _definitely_ wide‑awake now. Somehow, it doesn't even wake Gladio up: he's still dead to the world, not even snoring, and Prompto has to hold his hand in front of Gladio's nose to make sure he's still alive. 

There's no glow from the front of the car, and no noise besides the radio, which means Noct isn't conscious, either. Lucky bastards. If Prompto thought they all smelled bad outside, well ‑‑ he's pretty sure no amount of Febreze is gonna get this smell out of the car. Even with the windows down, the stench is overpowering, and Prompto's pretty sure it's going to be permanently baked into his skin. Ugh.

He gets out his phone to take his mind off the smell, but other than a text from his parents and a few Facebook notifications there really isn't all that much. Slime Rancher's one of his usual go‑to games, but thinking of it just brings back horrible memories of tonight's hunt, and it's no fun playing King's Knight without the guys. Iggy's awake, obviously, but he clearly isn't in the mood to talk; Prompto gives up and settles back in to sleep, futilely pillowing his head against the car's interior. 

Ten minutes later, he's given up on sleep, too. This has got to be the bumpiest ride he's ever been on ‑‑ he feels like he's trapped in the pear wiggler, atoning for his crimes. He lowers his phone and leans forward to ask Ignis if he can possibly, like, drive a little bit slower, and then does a double‑take and nearly drops it ‑‑ because Ignis and Noct are holding hands.

Prompto bangs his head on the roof of the car scrambling back into his seat, but luckily none of the other three seem to notice. His heart racing, he presses his palm to his chest and tries to make sense of what he's just seen.

Is this for real? Maybe it's just a hallucination. Prompto took a couple hard knocks during the hunt, after all ‑‑ or maybe it _is_ real, but it doesn't mean what Prompto thinks it means. Noct's always been better at the silent comfort thing than anything involving words; it's probably just his way of telling Ignis _you're very important to me and I'm upset you nearly got eaten alive by daemons tonight_. 

Yeah, that's got to be it: there's no way Ignis and Noct are actually together, because if so, (a) for how long, and more importantly, (b) how could Noct never have _told_ him? He's Noct's best friend! He can keep a secret! He's never told anyone about the time in high school Noct had that sexy dream about Gladio's dad, or when Prompto'd invited him over on his nineteenth birthday to raid his parents' liquor cabinet and Noct started drunkenly crying about how much he wanted a pet and then warped out the window and straight‑up tried to kidnap the neighbor's dog, or just the other day when he "accidentally" dropped the rest of Ignis's newest recipe on the floor so he wouldn't have to finish it, or ‑‑ 

Point is, Prompto's honestly a little betrayed, so he doesn't feel _too_ bad about leaning up again to take another peek. It's confirmed: they're still holding hands, fingers intertwined, Iggy's thumb stroking along the back of Noct's glove, and there's absolutely no way the gesture is strictly platonic; the two of them touch a lot, sure, but not like this. No, this is genuine, honest‑to‑gods Romantic Stylez handholding, and Prompto can't even really be mad any more ‑‑ Noct deserves nothing but good things in his life, and the same goes for Ignis. 

That doesn't mean Prompto isn't going to rag on the both of them from now on, but that can wait till tomorrow.

"Noct," Ignis says quietly; there's an answering _mm_ from the passenger side. "Noctis."

"Yeah?"

"There's a particularly tortuous stretch of road up ahead. I'll need the use of both hands if I'm to navigate properly."

"You'll manage." Noct makes it sound like a command.

" _Noct_."

It's that weird soft‑yet‑firm tone he always uses with Noct, and Prompto could kick himself for never noticing till now what it _meant_. What an idiot. It's so obvious, now, in retrospect. 

"Fine," says Noct, and Prompto sees Ignis's arm retract to his side of the car. "Give it back when you're done."

"Yes, Highness," Ignis says, a smile in his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Main fic account: [@introductory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory).


End file.
